Fighting for Freedom
by Kain Aldar
Summary: Kain Aldar is fighting for his freedom. After the ending of the War of the Lance. Kain is captured by draconians and forced to fight in an underground arena. He will be pitted against others in a contest of heart, strength, and will.


_Chapter One_

_Bliss_

I've never done anything important in my life. But that doesn't mean that I am not important...does it? That's what the others always tell me, they tell me that I am not important to anyone and that I will never amount to anything other than a lowly farmer. Every once in a while I begin to believe them too, which is the scary part.

I practiced with a blade day and night hoping that one day I would get to use it for good and show all of the people that had put me down that I could do something with my life and that they couldn't stop me from accomplishing it. But the more I practiced the more they made fun of me, I can still hear their jeers and cruel jokes in my sleep to this day, I can still fell the bruises from the rocks they used to throw at me. But I persevered, and they laughed.

But then something happened, it was the War of the Lance. I knew it was my chance. So I bought some cheap iron armor(all I could afford), and sharpened my blade, for I knew that there was going to be a fight. I _knew_ that the fight was going to be brought to the doorstep of Solace.

Sure enough, draconians began to march into Solace, with their dragons and magic. But I told myself they didn't stand a chance, that they would perish before my blade. I fought with the determination and the glory of a Knight of Solamnia, and nothing was going to stop me.

And nothing did stop me...till that Dragon Highlord showed up. I challenged him foolishly, thinking that I could defeat him in a one on one sword duel. Needless to say I was brutally defeated and shamed, and not to mention captured and held prisoner by the draconians.

Shortly after that the War of the Lance ended and the draconian force began to break away, most of them scattered for the mountains, hoping to find dark shelter there. They did...and they took me with them. Now I sit here in a dark and damp cell awaiting the next match I have to fight. Maybe for freedom, or I may just be fighting to die. Who knows?

The only thing I really know now is that being a farmer wasn't all that bad. In fact, it was bliss. Being a gladiator in an underground fighting arena run by hundreds of draconions that all want your blood to be spilt for their entertainment, that's hell!

"Get the prissoner!" rasped a draconian officer walking down the stairs into the dungeon.

"Which one," rasped another draconian sitting at the table not far off from my cell.

"The dirty one," replied the officer, grabbing a mug and taking it to the far corner of the room and filling it with draconian mead(worse than dwarf spirits if you ask me).

"They're all dirty you fool," replied the draconian at the table, raising his voice slightly.

"The elf, get the elf!" hissed the officer.

I knew immediately that they were talking about me, I was used to being the only elf somewhere. Elves really didn't get out much nowadays, that and I was the only one in Solace and the only one here.

"You should have said so in the firsst place!"

Getting up from his seat, the low rank draconian walked over towards me, fumbling for the right key that would open my cell.

"Damn keyss," muttered the draconian, apparently having trouble finding the right key. After many attempts at trying to open the cell and failing, the draconian gave a shout of triumph as the lock clicked and the door to my cell swung open.

I shivered at the sound of the grating hinges, the rusted old door had about fallen off in the process of opening. But I knew that the draconians would never replace it, they had no real need to keep me locked up. There were so many of them here that I did not stand a chance, and there was no way that I would be able to find my way out. This whole place was a maze of tunnels that would impossible to travers without a guide, or map of some sort.

The guard entered my cell and grabbed my by roughly by the arm, as he squeezed my arm, I winced in pain as he grabbed the bruises that he had made from the other countless times he had been forced to retrieve me from my cell, whether it be to fight in the arena or for torture. I never knew. But this time, I knew it was the arena. I could hear the shouts and cheers of the filthy draconians above me. They were waiting for me, they were waiting for their favorite arena contestant. They were waiting for the filthy underdog, hoping that this time I would lose.

I won't.


End file.
